


the 1.

by IHaveMadeMistakes



Series: writing warm ups that actually turned out cute [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, post breakup, sunflowers are a big deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHaveMadeMistakes/pseuds/IHaveMadeMistakes
Summary: if my wishes came true it would've been you.
Relationships: Past Sam Winchester/Reader
Series: writing warm ups that actually turned out cute [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873888
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this just turned into a fic. i cried while i wrote it. so enjoy.

Your boots click against the cement of the sidewalk of the tiny town you’d settled down in. The soft way that the breeze ruffled your hair made you smile and reminded you that you were alive. 

There was a tall man standing at the bus stop down the street and for a second you thought…

No. It wasn’t him.

It couldn’t be him.

But wouldn’t that be nice? If he just showed up? If he’d decided that you were worth it.

It wasn’t that you weren’t worth it. You just had different ideas what was worth it.

The man at the bus stop has blue eyes, and you nod, but don’t smile. You duck down the next street and into a flower shop.

The blooms full the space with color, and the lights are soft enough that it takes a moment for you to be able to see in any detail.

“Sunflowers?” Jeremy asked from behind the counter. 

“Yes.” You say, and he wraps a bouquet up for you.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” He asked, and you smiled coyly.

“A girl never plans and tells.” 

“No company, then?”

“Yes. Actually. Come with me?” 

He raised his eyebrows at you. “As a friend.”

“As a friend.” You confirm and he hands you a bouquet. 

“Let’s do it.”

—

You went karaoke singing at one of the more popular restaurants and came home with a glass of wine mellowing out your uber ride. 

“Hey you.” You whisper to your cat as she rubs against your ankles to let you know that she missed you.

When you rolled into bed your cat jumped in beside you, headbutting you until you let her under the covers so she could rest against your side. “Good night,” With a kiss to the top of her head you turned off the lamp and turned on your sleep playlist.

Sam was in your dreams that night. You dreamed about him hunting, a streak of blood spatter coating one cheek, a satisfied grin on his face. It wasn’t the sort of loving picture most people had of their exes, but you and Sam had never been particularly normal, individually or as a couple.

The man at the bus stop who so obviously wasn’t him had kept Sam in your thoughts on and off for the rest of the day. It made sense he’d have crept his way into your dreams. The fond grin was familiar and welcoming, even if he was covered in the blood of some monster that your brain hadn’t filled in so well.

What was much less welcome was the new girl, the girl with no face but that you knew wasn’t you who slid up beside him and kissed his cheek for a job well done.

The bed had been empty for nearly a year, but the emptiness ached that morning. The chill in the sheets beside you was more prominent than it had been in a long time. You cat purred against your chest and you pet her soft head, ignoring the tears that fell down your face.

Deep in your heart you always hoped for the best for Sam, but wouldn’t it have been sweet if you were what was best for him?

You don’t have a defense for having spent so long missing him, on and off, seeing him where he wasn’t, wishing for him when he couldn’t be there. The ache of him, the knowledge that he was living his life just like you were living yours, a life that you wished so much you could have lived together, felt like death. 

You don’t even touch your phone, not until you’ve had some coffee and a shower. You don’t have the self control that it would take to stop yourself from asking him “Could it have been me?”

—

After your matinee movie you can’t resist the urge to duck into your favorite thrift store.

“Why the long face?” Stephanie behind the counter asks, and you shake your head.

“I thought I saw and old friend and I just can’t shake the memory.”

She nods and doesn’t press. There’s a reason you like Stephanie. 

“Sunday morning special. Those sunflower plates you’ve been eyeing for the last month or 20% off, along with all the dishware.”

You grin and look down. “I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I should.” You finally relent and go to get the stupid tacky sunflower plates that you just loved.

—

You set the table with your new second hand plates, despite never having set the table in your apartment once in the near a year you’d been living there. They looked cute against the deep gray glass and green place mats that you’d bought for a quarter. 

Your phone chimes with a text across the room but you don’t answer it. Instead you go to the kitchen to cook a meal to serve on your new plates.

—

The text was Sam.

-

Thought about you. Hope you’re doing well. 

-

It’s like an itch you can’t scratch. You stare at the little green box and try not to cry. You think about everything you lost when you and Sam went your separate ways. Losing Dean, Cas, and Jack. Losing the bunker, the only place that had felt like home in years. Losing the last shreds of family that you’d had.

But you were building a life for yourself. You had friends who you went to Karaoke with you, and noticed what ridiculous things you’d been keeping an eye on in the thrift shop.

-

You:  Meet me for drinks. I’m buying.

Stephanie:  Hot drinks or sad drinks.

You: Memorial drinks.

-

You: I’m getting by. Give my best to the guys. Take care of yourself.

Sam: Always.

-

It would have been fun, if you had been the one.


	2. part 2.

Sometimes you still call Jodie. Just to catch up, see how she’s doing.   
You’re surprised when she tells you that she’s hunting with a group of girls and Donna. It sounds sort of kick ass. You ask if you can drop by one weekend, maybe when they have a hunt, and she tells you you’re invited any time, but she mentions this weekend might be a particularly good one.  
You didn’t expect Sam and Dean to be there the same weekend you were.  
You weren’t dressed in hunting clothes. You were in a summer dress and combat boots, hair wild and held back with a bandanna. The impala was parked in the drive and it took everything, everything, you had not to turn around and head back home.  
Your wheels barely hit the driveway before the door swings open and your breath catches at the tall masculine figure standing there, but it’s not Sam.  
You pull to a stop behind the impala and sharp green eyes are watching you. “(Y/N),” Dean said from the doorway, and you see the look in his eyes, the knowing look that catches you it’s gaze and holds you steady. He’s orchestrated this. Or co-conspired.  
“Dean.” You smile as you shut the door to your yellow ‘64 mustang. Your mom had had one, once upon a time, and you had hunted for years before you finally found one just like it. She was your baby.  
“Good to see you. I didn’t know you were going to be in town.”  
“Jodie invited me. I wanted to see what they were doing. A whole group of bad ass women hunting evil shit? I had to see it. And I was a little jealous.”   
“Oh, don’t be jealous. You can come along anytime you want. Come here.” Jodie said from the door and you grinned, opening her arms for a hug.   
“Is this what the big deal was about? Nice car.” Claire said from behind Jodie, but you ignored her.   
“Jodie, it’s good to see you.” You say into her shoulder. She’s just a little bit taller than you, but you didn’t mind it.  
“You too. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, what with the way you just vanished.”  
“Vanished?” You asked, and Dean looked pointedly at you.  
“Well, you disappeared with little more than a note. We worried.”  
“Sam knew-” but you stop, because now Sam is standing in the door and it hits you, the way it had hit you at the bus stop.  
In my defense I have none…  
Why had you let him slip through your fingers? Why hadn’t you held on harder? Why hadn’t you just-  
Just let yourself get killed for a man who would never have put you first.  
That’s why.  
“Hey Sam.” You whisper, and his smile is tense, strained, awkward.  
“It’s good to see you. You look good.” He smiled, eyes lingering fondly on the combat boots. They were the ones he’d bought you, eons ago. In another sort of life. You couldn’t make yourself get rid of them. They were too comfortable.  
“You too. I like your hair.”   
It’s shorter than it was last time you saw him, with a slight wave to it that made you want to touch it.   
His hair had always been one of your favorite things.  
“Well, let’s not just stand out here. Come in. I’ve got food on the stove and the boys aren’t ruining it, so that’s nice.” Jodie smiled and stepped to clear the doorway.  
“Hey, I’m making killer burgers for dinner. You just wait.” Dean cut in and corralled you inside, leaving you no space to even consider an escape.  
Not that you would’ve. You weren’t a teenager anymore. You wouldn’t just run.   
Probably.  
-  
The tension through lunch was palpable. You and Sam were civil, but Dean obviously held some hostility. Talking with Jody and even Alex was easy, but Claire seemed to be holding a grudge as much as Dean was and talking with Sam felt so stilted.  
Neither of you had really wanted to break things off, but neither of you had been willing to change your lives to the degree necessary to incorporate the other.  
The more you saw Sam the more you wondered why you’d been so resistant.  
Dean’s usual enthusiasm cut the tension between the two of you as you poked fun at him and he said you were losing too much weight without the hunt to keep you in supply of junk food.  
Even Sam laughed along and when his hand had reached across the table to catch yours without even thinking about it you both let it happen for a few second before you realize that it wasn’t supposed to be happening.  
He pulled his hand back first and you kept your hands in your lap for the rest of lunch.   
His hand had been just as warm as you remembered it being. It still encompassed yours the way no one else’s could. Non-threatening, not even remotely possessive and it felt perfect. Calluses in all the same spots.  
The year apart hadn’t changed either of you much, but nothing was the same anymore.  
-  
You’re hugging Jodie goodbye before dinner is even served. Stephanie is texting you with a fake emergency at work (even though you don’t work with Stephanie) and you’re making excuses.  
When you’re taking your still-packed duffel bag back to the car Dean pretends to help you out, taking the strap from you and walking it out for you. You try to claim misogyny, but even Jody refuses to help you out. She raises an eyebrow like she knows exactly what Dean is up to.  
“Okay, what the fuck. You’re both obviously miserable, so what gives? I know that text was fake, so I want the truth.”  
You took the bag from Dean and threw it into the back seat. “I don’t have to answer that.”  
“I think I deserve some kind of explanation after you just left like that. Sam’s still hung up on it, and you obviously are too. What the hell?”  
“Drop it, Dean,” You said through gritted teeth. He wouldn’t like the answer, and you weren’t feeling up to lying.  
You would’ve loved to have stayed with Sam, but you just can’t live the full time hunter life anymore. A hunt here or there, sure, but you wanted a life, a real life, with friends who went to karaoke bars with you on the weekends and worked at thrift shops. You wanted to be normal, at least sometimes.   
You didn’t want to live every day wondering if the next hunt would be the one you died for.  
And then there was the stress. The stress of the hunt, of living on hustled pool and bad credit cards, Sam.   
The stress of wondering if Sam would come back was terrible. The fear of what might happen to him if you weren’t with him was too much in the long term. And you couldn’t go with him. Not anymore.  
You’d fought about it a lot in the end. Years without having any real fights only to suddenly feel like fighting was all you did.  
You feel the tears well and you turn away form Dean before he can see them.  
“No, I’m not gonna drop it. Whatever you think in that messed up head of yours, I care about you. Sam sure as hell cares about you. So why’d you run off?”   
“We broke up, Dean. I didn’t exactly want to keep living in the bunker.”  
“Nah, no, none of that bullshit.” He turned you to face him and you gritted your teeth, forcing your face to stay still, blank, impassive. “You could’ve moved out, sure, but you dropped out. No one’s heard from you in hunter circles since. You didn’t leave hunting for Sam. I know you. You’re more dedicated than that.”  
“I left hunting for me.” You said quietly, the tears stinging. “I left hunting because I was always going to and… Sam wouldn’t come with me.” You swallowed hard, feeling a single tear track down your face. “I begged him. He begged me. You think I wanted to leave him? Sam was one of the only good things in my life. But sometimes you just have to put yourself first.”  
You pulled out of his grip and got into the car while Dean was still gaping at you, processing what you’d said.  
“Wait, hold on.” He said as you were already pulling out. “Hey. I’m not done talking to you!”  
You were done talking him though. You pulled out and nearly hit Dean in the process, but he was smart enough to get out of the way when you looked determined.   
You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You didn’t see Sam watch you go or hear Dean yell “Damn it!” As you disappeared down the road, leaving Jody’s place in the dust.  
-  
“So, spill. What the hell? You were so excited about this trip.” Stephanie said as she pushed a wine glass your way.  
“My ex showed up.” You sighed and she raised an eyebrow.  
“What ex? The ex. The one who you quit your last job to get away from?”  
“I didn’t quit to get away from him.” You sighed, taking a sip of your wine and letting it warm you up a little bit. “I was going to leave anyway. I just wanted him to come with me.”  
“And he wouldn’t.” She sighed, pouring herself a drink. “Touch break, babe. So your ex showed up at your friend’s place. Then what?”  
“I couldn’t deal with it. I’m still hung up on him. Of course I am, we were great right up until I wanted to talk about quitting.”  
“What were you doing that was so bad.”  
“Porn.” You said with a sad grin and she rolled her eyes.  
“I know it’s not porn. I’d know if you’d done porn.”   
You shrug.   
“Fine, don’t tell me. You’re entitled to your secrets.”  
“And that’s why I love you.” You smiled and took another sip of wine. “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting them and I spent all afternoon with them.”  
“Them?”  
“His brother was there too.”  
“Fuck. That’s rough.” She added more wine to your glass and you laughed.  
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”  
“Is it working?” She asked without missing a beat and you shook your head.  
“It’s going to be hot by the time I finish drinking it.”  
“Drink it faster. Loosen your lips. You’re obviously upset about this guy, so spill.”  
“So… We met on the job…”  
-  
Later that night, while you’re still a little tipsy, you get a text from Sam.  
—  
Sam: Hey. Hope everything with work is going okay. Text if you need anything.  
Y/N: Thanks. It’s going alright. I’ll text.  
You won’t text. You haven’t texted him first once since the break up. You always reply, just so he doesn’t get scared that you’ve been killed, but you never text him first.  
Sam: I don’t know what Dean said to you, but I’m sorry. You looked really upset when you left.  
Y/N: We’ve never really seen eye to eye. It’s no big deal.  
Sam: Was it about us?  
You don’t respond for several minutes, trying to decide what to say. He knows you too well, and you know he does when he responds after ten minutes.  
Sam: I’m taking that as a yes.  
Sam: How much did you tell him?  
Y/N: Nothing he shouldn’t have already known.  
Sam: He’s kind of slow on the uptake. He seemed to think you’d dropped a bomb.  
Y/N: He thought I left hunting because we broke up. I told him it he had it the wrong way around.  
Sam: That might be my fault. I really didn’t clarify.   
Sam: I didn’t want to talk about it at first, and by the time I could we had already moved on.  
Y/N: It’s fine. You don’t owe him an explanation. Or me.   
Sam: I know. I just know how Dean can be and I don’t want you to think I put him up to it.  
Y/N: It’s like you think I don’t know you. You didn’t even know I was going to Jodie’s, did you?  
Sam: No, Dean just said he wanted to visit and we left.   
Y/N: They planned it. They had to have.  
Sam: I don’t think Jodie knew we were coming either. She seemed surprised to see us.  
Y/N: Well, that’s good. At least it was just your brother with ulterior motives.  
Incoming Call  
Sam Winchester  
Shit.  
“Shit.” You whisper, but you swipe and answer anyway.  
“Leave my brother alone you heart breaking-”  
“Dean!” Sam yelled on the other end of the line and you hear a squabble and the phone drops and bounces on the floor, or a table or some other hard surface.  
“Sam, you’re texting her. You’ve been moping over her for a year and now you’re texting her like a friggin’ teenage idiot.”  
“Dean!” You hear a body thud against the ground and then the phone scrapes across whatever surface it landed on as Sam picks it back up.  
“I’m sorry. Ignore him.” Sam said, panting for breath.  
“I’ve been doing it as long as I’ve known him.” You laugh, but you’re tense, nervous to be speaking to him again. That’s twice in twenty four hours that you’ve had to talk to the man you wished could be your everything.   
You hear Dean mutter something on the other end of the line, but the phone goes silent and for a second you think maybe he’s hung up, but the sound of a door closing and Sam sighing assures you that he hasn’t.  
The silence feels pressing, but neither of you want to speak. The things you could say and things you want to say don’t overlap very well.  
“This is awkward.” Sam finally said, breaking the tension, and you laughed.  
“That might be an understatement.”  
“Yeah. I know.” The familiar sound of Sam’s terrible bed frame squeaking against the floor told you that he’d taken a seat. He was probably hunched over and staring at the ground between his feet, one hand balled into a fist. You’d seen him get like that sometimes, when he wasn’t quite sure what to do.  
“You ran away yesterday.” He breaks the silence again. You feel bad putting that responsibility on him, but you were still a little foggy headed and very aware that your brain to mouth filter didn’t work as well when you were drunk.   
You weren’t that drunk. But still.  
“I wasn’t ready to see you guys. I wasn’t expecting it. I would’ve prepped. Done some mental gymnastics to convince myself that I could be normal. I wasn’t ready.”  
“Neither was I.” He sighed, and you can hear the tension in his body. You used to wrap yourself around him from behind, hug him and press your head to his shoulder blade. Rub his shoulders. The memory makes your hands ache for something to touch and you squeeze one of the couch cushions in your hand.  
“I’m sorry.” You said, and you were. The first time you’d seen him in a year and you’d just run off without warning or explanation. It would be hard not to take something like that personally.  
“I’m sorry. For everything. You know I would’ve gone with you, if I could.”  
“I know.” You whisper. “I knew you wouldn’t come even when I was asking. I just… I had to hear you say it. Or else I’d have held out.”  
“You still holding out?”  
You nod and lean back into the soft cushions of your couch. He can’t see you, and you know that, but words get stuck in your throat like too much honey, sluggish, and too sweet to be pleasant. “I think I’ll always be holding out. I can’t imagine… It’ll always be you. Even when you get killed by actual God, because I’m convinced that’s the only way you’re going out, it’s always just going to be you.”  
“I wish it wasn’t. For you.” It hurts to hear him say it, even though you know what he means. He cares about you enough that he wishes you could let him go, move on, find someone else.  
“Me too.” You wipe your eyes. When had you started crying?   
“I know you don’t want to, but if you ever did…”  
“I won’t come back.” You whispered. “It was killing me, Sam. It was killing me.”  
“I know.”   
“But if it hadn’t been. If I could’ve stayed. I would’ve.”   
“I know.”  
“I didn’t mean to break your heart, Sam.”  
“I know.” His voice cracks and you sniffle.  
“If you cry I promise I won’t tell Dean.”  
“Oh shut up.” He laughed, and you heard the thickness in his words. The way he was barely holding onto it.  
“I mean it. It’ll stay our secret.”  
“You’re keeping enough secrets for me already. I don’t think you need any more.”   
“Sure I do. I love keeping your secrets, Sam. I’d have kept your secrets for the rest of my life. ‘Til death do us part.  
“Careful. You’ll get my hopes up.”  
“I had a ring.” You told him. “Well. Two rings. One for each of us. I was going to do the whole corny proposal thing. Like, I was going to get down on one knee, but on the table so we’d still be relatively the same height and I could look you in the eye. I wasn’t going to propose while staring at your knees. You’re such a sasquatch.”  
“You’re drunk.” He said, like he’d just realized it, and you laughed.  
“Yeah. Kind of. Stephanie and I shared a bottle of wine. We didn’t exactly get plastered.”   
“Stephanie is…?”  
“My friend. I meant it when I said I was holding out.”  
“I didn’t mean for that to sound like that. It’s good you’re making friends. You’re too anti-social.”  
“Shots fired, Sam. I can be social when I want to be.”  
“So, rarely.”  
“Exactly.”   
“I just mean I’m glad you’re not isolated.”  
“Me too. I’d probably have gone back to you otherwise. I’d be dead.”  
“I would’ve done everything I could to stop that.”  
“Yeah. Up to and including getting yourself killed. I couldn’t let you do that.”   
He doesn’t respond for a minute. Then two. You wonder if he’s hung up and you just didn’t notice.  
“You could’ve stopped. If we’d have put our foot down, explained to Dean, and Cas, and everyone how it was affecting you… They wouldn’t have asked you to get yourself killed for a case.”  
You smile at his hope. So naive. You close your eyes to respond, to keep the tears from blocking your vision and making you panic. Your voice a soft hoarse whisper. “Yes they would’ve.” You swallowed back your fear, pain. “Not at first. But eventually there would’ve been a case that would’ve been worth it, and another, and another. There’s a reason you and Jodi are the only people with any connection to hunting that have my info. There’s always going to be a case, some case, that could use someone with my psychic abilities. And if you asked, I would go. That’s why I love you, you know. You never ask.”   
“I never will. Not unless it literally means the fate of the entire world.”  
“And I’d want to help with that anyway.” You smile sadly. “I go on small hunts in the area. Take care of what I can. I didn’t stop. I just… broke contact.”  
“Yeah. I kind of figured that one out. We went to catch a hunt somewhere in your area, and by the time we got there there was no trace of it. Everyone we talked to described someone who looked just like you coming to talk to them a day earlier.”  
You sighed. “And that’s the danger of hunting. But… I can’t just let a case go. Not when people are getting hurt and I can stop it.”  
“I know.”   
“You do know. You know me so well. Too well. I should be afraid.”  
“No, you shouldn’t. You know me too. We know each other. I’m always going to be safe to you.”  
“Yeah.” You cradled your phone gently against your face and imagined you were back in the bunker, curled up next to Sam. It was a fantasy that you didn’t indulge in often, but sometimes you let yourself think about it. “You were the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You know that, right?”  
“I thought that was 85% dark chocolate.”  
“Mmm, I was trying to make you feel good. But yeah, the chocolate comes first.”   
He laughed and it made your chest ache, like a fist reaching in and gripping your lungs. You missed his laugh.   
The moment passed, almost unacknowledged. You didn’t blame Sam. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d want to hear. “Maybe you should come and see me. Just the two of us.”  
“Maybe. We can revisit the idea when you’re sober.”  
“I’ll say no when I’m sober.”  
“So we can revisit the idea when you’re sober.”  
“You are a good man, Sam Winchester. A stupidly tall, very handsome, good man. I’m very obviously inviting you for a one night stand, and you’re taking the high road.”  
“That wasn’t obvious, actually.” His voice was taking on that avoidant-nervous quality that you knew meant he was flustered. You licked your lips at the memory. “In that case, we’re definitely revisiting the idea only once you’re sober.”  
“You’re no fun.” You say, but there’s no heat, only mirth.   
“You’re too drunk to consent.”  
“I’m fine. Probably.”   
“You’re not, but it’s cute that you think you are.”  
“You think I’m cute?” You giggle and you hear him laugh on the other end of the line.  
“Yeah. I do.”   
“Well, good.”   
You don’t talk after that. You just listen to him breath like a freak and he lets you. Maybe he’s listening to you too. You fall asleep on the couch with your cat curled up at your feet and wake up a few hours later, freezing in the night air. He’s still on the line.   
You close your eyes so you don’t see your finger tap the red button that will end your call. You don’t hear from him after that. Not for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> sam-fiction.tumblr.com


End file.
